5 o'clock Shadow
by EverSteam
Summary: A Sith Warrior x Quinn fanfiction. Haven't you ever wondered why prim, proper and by-the-book Captain Quinn has a constant 5 o'clock shadow? A little series on my S.W. asking Quinn why this is and the cat and mouse game that it causes. Please read and feel free to review.
1. Chapter 1

**5 O'clock Shadow**

I continue to work.

I ignore her leaning against the doorway to the bridge, her small black nightgown crackling when she breathes. Normally, I would move to attention and give a report. But the habit and practice became void after a month of her watching me work at strange hours. _And in strange clothes._

She would just lean and watch, sometimes sit on the chair next to mine and gaze at the galaxy, a fierce glint in her eye. Other times she would try to be unseen, standing in the shadows, moving silently. But no matter how quiet she was, I am always aware of her watching. _Hard to not be aware of a Sith Lord watching you._

But it's not only that. I'm aware of everyone on the ship. Just more so of her. I'm aware of everywhere she goes, everyone she talks to, everything she does, her every breath. Only time I am not aware of specifics is the hours she spends with each companion behind closed doors every week. And this has gone beyond Darth Baras' orders. It's now a sick, disturbing obsession I can't control.

'To attention, Captain.'

I smoothly move to attention, and she watches with a sadistic glint in her eye. She's planning something. She's always planning something.

'My Lord. Do you want a status report?' I ask blandly.

She waves my suggestion away as someone waves away a fly. 'Negative, Captain. I wish to discuss a breach of military protocol with you.'

I try to focus on her eyes, or her fore head. But my eyes keep wandering down. I know that she does this to me deliberately. But my pride and self control are less then my desire for her. _Never thought these days would come._

'Is it about Lieutenant Pierce, my Lord?'

Her exquisite lips twist into beautiful smirk. 'Negative again, Captain.'

I notice the repetitive use of my rank and I become aware that this is once again the game a cat plays with a dying mouse; a constant baiting and prodding to see if the mouse is alive enough to defend itself and escape from its claws. _And I'm the mouse. _

I wait in attention for her to continue. I have played this game enough. And this time, I want to win. For the future, I have to believe that a mouse can escape and kill a cat. Her smirk only gets larger as she sees my move. But I have the horrible feeling that this is not even the beginning of tonight's game.

'It is about you, Captain Malavai Quinn.' She savours the name in her mouth like it's the last of a precious lolly that is already melting. 'I was just inspecting your quarters with Lieutenant Pierce.' She pauses again to watch my reaction. I don't even clench my fists or tighten my jaw. And I don't let the anger and outrage of this show in my eyes either. I retain a stoic indifference, despite the breach in regulations of lower officer inspecting the quarters of a superior. _And I don't want to know what their idea of inspecting quarters involves._

A flash of annoyance passes her face. But she continues to lean casually against the door frame. 'Congratulations, Captain.' Her voice is more than a little mocking. 'Not only was your side of the quarters you share with the Lieutenant in perfect working order and spotlessly to regulation, but so was the Lieutenants. He was eager to inform that not only were you responsible for this, but you did it against his wishes and while under threat.'

I nod sharply. 'The Lieutenant does make some frequent complaints, my Lord. But the issue is under hand.' _Only because I'm quicker on the draw._

She smiles happily. 'Good to hear, Captain. I am actually most impressed and not condemning your actions. Quite the contrary. However, this now almost brings us to something I have been very aware of for months which I came to speak to you of. At ease, Captain Quinn.'

I mildly loosen my position, but I can feel the trap closing around me as she continues to smile. 'What matter, my Lord?'

'Isn't it part of military protocol in part 1 B, section 34 M, paragraph 4 that all military personal are to be clean shaven at all times with no exception?'

I nod.

'Why then,' she straightens in the doorway, 'do you continually, in fact almost daily, break this protocol? When your quarters, uniform, shoes, hair, behaviour and entire being is by the book, why do you have a constant five o 'clock shadow?'

I tighten my lips to stop a smile and my comments on the fact it is 02:00 and her Lieutenant is a constant and blatant breach of such a protocol.

'My Lord, present time taken into account as an excuse for this moment, there is also the matter of time, the lack of it, and the lack of appropriate equipment to fulfil this on a regular basis.'

When I finish, she has also finished her slow, elegant walk across the room. I look to the wall opposite, past her ear as she presses herself against me. I retain my at ease stance, keep breathing and heart rate in check and stoic expression in place. But I still betray myself. And she can feel it.

'I wasn't aware you were lacking in any equipment at all, Captain. In fact, I was lead to believe by the Lieutenant that all was more then accounted for.' She arches her back so her face is far away enough from mine to try and catch my gaze. Her meaning is thinly veiled. And despite everything, I want to know why she was talking about _that_ to the Lieutenant.

'Then he is incorrect, my Lord.' I ignore her amused grin and arched eye brow. 'Several months ago when we left Balmorra, I indecently left my razor behind. Due to this, I have been borrowing that of the Lieutenant's to fulfil protocol 1B/34M/4. As of yet, I have not found the time to buy a replacement.'

I ignore her lips and teeth on my ear. To flinch or mention would mean death or worse. I would lose the game. Again. _And she would stop. _And that is something I desperately don't want her to do.I must admit, she is a brilliant strategist and tactician. Never have I met someone who could win against me. But then I never fought against someone who used these tactics. _Well, no one with a body or will like hers, at least._

'Carry on, Captain.' Her voice is loud and commanding in my ear. But I like it more than a whisper. 'I am aware that there is a list of items to be purchased on request of the crew that is given to the droid at the end of every week. In fact, you are in charge of that list and it's execution. It would take approximately 6 seconds for you to type 'razor'.'

'Yes, my Lord. I am aware of this and have no excuse other than a tight schedule and more important concerns.' It's slowly getting harder to not take her here and now as her heat seeps through my clothes as she presses harder against me. 'I have also not had the time to do such a task regularly. I have considered the time taken on this and the importance of the regulation and decided time was more important. By not shaving twice a day I have saved 38 minutes every day. Shaving four times every seven days saves 190 minutes.'

'And what do you do with this extra 190 minutes, Captain?'

'Nothing structured as of yet, my Lord. Those 190 minutes are actually quite dull and empty so far. I have been waiting months for something in particular to do.' I couldn't believe my words. I had willingly and thoughtlessly spoken. _Something in particular to do._

Before I finish the last word, she a step away and grinning in victory. 'If that is the case, Captain, I expect protocol 1B/34M/4 to be carried out in the mean time until you can write a formal suggestion and reason of a more worthwhile activity to be done in those 190 minutes. I have already taken the liberty of writing the necessary supplies on the list behind you.'

She turns sharply on her heel and walks out of the bridge. 'And get some sleep, Quinn.'

I slowly sit down and groan. I was played. I thump my fist on the consol in front of me and curse. I pull out the datapad with the list from my pack pocket and sneer at myself as I read the latest entry. I should have noticed what she was doing with her hands. You should always be aware of what a Sith is doing with them.

I sigh and lean back in the rigid chair. I won't be able to sleep tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days later...

'Pierce, Quinn, what should the plan of attack be?'

We all stare at the thing that was once a toilet, but now seems a biohazard from back on Quesh or Taris. The droid is broken after repainting my quarters against specific orders to the contrary. It left me no choice. _And the Talz really needs its own toilet..._

'I suggest a roster rotation, with a different crew member to perform the duty every two - three days until the droid can be fixed when we land in Imperial space in another three weeks,' Quinn says with total gravity and confidence. I like the look that Quinn gives the toilet: the evaluation of a General to a particularly fierce and resilient opponent. And I note the slightly scrunched nose and disgust in his eyes. A plan forms in my mind.

Pierce sighs and turns in the small space to face me, the Captain uncomfortably between. 'I agree with the Captain, mi'lord. Fairest way to go about it,' he says with reluctance.

I study the toilet and pretend to consider the options. 'How long will such a routine attack take for each crew member, Captain?'

'It depends, my Lord. The droid took exactly 21 minutes to complete the task once and did it every ten hours. However, varying degrees of competence and effort will make this take longer or shorter time.'

I nod along. I do some quick calculations in my mind and things should work out approximately how I want them to. I think I would do this even if they didn't. Which I actually am.

'And what about you, Quinn? How long would you take?' I ask seductively. The colour slightly drains from his face. I wink at Pierce behind Quinn's back but Pierce isn't willing to show his grin until he knows it won't be him on duty.

'Approximately 25 minutes, my Lord.' Never fails to amuse how he dodges my advances. 'Vette would take around 30 - 40 minutes, Pierce - 22 minutes, Broonmark would not be able to accomplish it and neither would Jaesa. Broonmark would destroy the toilet in 7 minutes if able to even begin the task at all,' he reports thoroughly, in a low monotone. But that doesn't hide how much he hates standing here.

'I see. What prevents Jaesa?' I ask curiously.

'Vomiting, undoubtedly my lord. She would vomit compulsively once being within approximately 20 centimetres and not stop until taken out of sight, if not smell range, where she would eventually faint,' the Captain says with absolute certainty and indifference.

'I see,' I reply and pretend to be in deep contemplation of the disgusting thing before us. 'What about me, Captain?' I ask after a pause.

'You would also be unable to complete the task,' he says with hesitation. 'Nor do I think you should.'

'Explain both statements, Captain,' I promptly demand.

'To the first, you would grow tired of the task after one minute and leave it for the next person at which point there would be no one to enforce that you complete it since you are the one that would be enforcing the completion of the duty.' I note how he doesn't pause for breath and wonder how he has accomplished the task of giving long sentence without an intake or exhale for breathes.

'However,' he continues without a pause, 'an alternate scenario exists where you will grow angry and frustrated at the uselessness of the task or having to degrade yourself to do this and consequently violently assault the toilet at which point you will undoubtedly win as the toilet defences clearly don't work against you and subsequently lead us into a worse scenario.'

'Continue, Captain.' I watch him steadily but smile. I need to factor his knowledge and understanding of my character into future situations as he has my reaction down completely. He sees and understands more than I thought. He might actually provide a challenge before this is over. I quickly quench the giddiness that creeps up on me and concentrate on the Captain's explanation.

'To the second part, I merely meant that you are a Sith Lord and should not be forced to complete such a demeaning task,' he says smoothly. Pierce opens his mouth to protest but hold up my finger.

'Very good, Captain. I will see you are given a treat later.' He restrains a grimace that tugs the corners of his lips and I grin at him with all the pleasantness I can muster.

We stand in silence which makes Quinn and Pierce feel uncomfortable as our bodies all touch someone else's in places they'd rather not. Which for those two, is just about anywhere. Quinn and Pierce radiate dread as they feel an oncoming attack, neither sure who it will hit.

I clap my hands and announce my decision. 'Well, Quinn, I think we just found what you can be doing for approximately 90 of those 190 minutes we discussed earlier. However, the remaining 100 minutes must be left to the dedication of fulfilment of protocol 1B/34M/4. Unless you have begun your report regarding the issue?'

I look at him seductively and invitingly. I mean to only tease him and throw him off balance. I never meant to hope he'd actually say yes. I wonder how many days it will take until he comes crawling to me for a change of position. Pierce shifts uncomfortably, aware of the tension in the cramped, foul room.

'No, my Lord.'

I stand shocked for a moment and then glare deep into the Captain's eyes. 'Pierce, fetch the Captain the cleaning equipment,' I order.

Quinn turns his eyes to toilet, plotting a plan of attack. But I see a self satisfied smile at the edge of his lips. I stalk from the room and know that he won't ask for reassignment. He has won this time and I hate it. My pride won't stand the attack and I spend the rest of the day force choking a pillow with a photo of his face stuck to it.

_This isn't over, Captain._


End file.
